


falling (up) from grace

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-05
Updated: 2009-01-05
Packaged: 2019-01-19 18:31:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12415602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: in 1935, grindelwald is beginning his climb to power in the wizarding world, high pureblood society is choosing sides, and cedrella black is contentedly ignorant–until the events of the outside world inevitably find their way into her life, and she must learn, for the first time, to think for herself.





	falling (up) from grace

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

Every story has a beginning. It is where that beginning lies, however, which is somewhat subjective. It may start right when the action picks up, it may include all of the backstory, or it may pick an entirely arbitrary point from which to lead off.

This particular story might have started in 1939 with a quiet wedding in a church in Manchester, removed from the danger to an extent. Or, perhaps, it could have begun at the turn of the century, when two boys dreamed of revolutionizing the world: one imagining grand plans, the other unable to comprehend just how far his friend would go. Maybe it could have gone back even further, to the roots of a powerful family with the ability to change the course of history (or another with the courage to stand up to them).

Really, though, it starts in October, 1935. Whispers that have been no more than rumours are suddenly the most discussed topic of conversation—only behind locked doors, of course, but every word has the capability to slip through the cracks. Muggles, too, feel unrest in their world, so great that it might have been picked up by wizards had they not been so preoccupied with their own dealings. Everything is about politics, about being in the right circles, and no one dares speak their mind aloud. The air crackles with energy, and many are left holding their breath.

Most importantly in terms of this story, though, it was that October in which a young girl named Cedrella Black lost her temper. While this was not a most unusual event, she was unable to talk her way out of things, and that is where everything truly began.

* 

"Professor Merrythought—"

"Miss Black, please hold your tongue." Galatea Merrythought pursed her lips and eyed Cedrella, who stared back with a defiant expression. "Never, in all my years at Hogwarts, have I known a student who has been sent to my office so many times."

Cedrella willed herself to take steady breaths. It wouldn't do to interrupt Professor Merrythought again, and her emotions were still riding high on the passion that had got her into this trouble in the first place. However, she was finding it hard to 'hold her tongue'—as usual.

"Now." Professor Merrythought leaned over her desk, letting her wire-framed glasses slide down the bridge of her nose. "Would you like to explain what happened,  _without_  calling names or pointing fingers? I would like only the facts, Miss Black, no commentary on the character of other students."

"I was not at fault," Cedrella said indignantly. "I was merely walking down the corridor to Divination, when I was nearly bowled over by Irma Crabbe—who is an absolute troll, and I cannot understand how she could possibly believe that  _her_  family is on the same level as mine, it's nearly disgraceful—"

"I said no commentary, Miss Black, just the facts," Professor Merrythought interjected sternly.

"Yes, Professor, of course. Anyway, Irma Crabbe was passing me in the opposite direction, and then she simply rammed her shoulder into me—this is completely true, Professor, you can ask Eunice Murray, he was walking behind me and saw it too—and my bag spilled out all over the floor, my books and quills and scrolls went everywhere and my ink bottles broke all over my papers—"

"Ah." Professor Merrythought raised her eyebrows. "So you thought this constituted an appropriate excuse for pushing someone down a flight of stairs? Need I remind you that stairs move in this castle and that Miss Crabbe could have experienced a freefall?"

Cedrella shrugged nonchalantly. "She may have, I suppose, but she did not, so that's neither here nor there."

Professor Merrythought's eyes widened, then narrowed rapidly, and Cedrella bit her lip to keep from laughing—really, it was so difficult to remain serious while being reprimanded if your Head of House kept making unintentionally comical expressions.

"Miss Black." Professor Merrythought's voice was hard, and Cedrella quickly swallowed her amusement. "Your actions earlier this afternoon are unacceptable, despite the circumstances surrounding them. Next time such an event occurs, I suggest you hold your tongue, wand, and hands in check, gather up your possessions and your emotions, and move on."

Sensing the end of a speech (or, perhaps, the beginning of a much longer and more drawn-out one), Cedrella rose to her feet and nodded. "Yes, Professor. I will be sure to remember that."

"I am not finished with you, Miss Black."

"Oh, Professor." Cedrella shifted her weight from one foot to the other and gave her a pleading look. "Please, just take away points and be done with it."

"Your lack of concern for your house is disheartening," Professor Merrythought remarked dryly. "No, Miss Black, I am not going to take away points."

Sighing with relief, Cedrella started to turn towards the door, but a pointed cough made her stop where she was.

"It has come to my attention that you are seriously in need of some patience—not just through this incident, but over the past years. In addition, Miss Black, you need to learn that you are not above others, as much as you may believe yourself to be. Therefore, I am assigning you a consequence that will help you with these things, and hopefully, it will be of some benefit to the other individual involved."

Cedrella groaned inwardly, dreading what was to come.

"Professor Dumbledore informs me that you've got quite a knack for Transfiguration, which is fortunate, because none of the other Prefects seem to be quite so adept. As you know, it is your responsibility as a Prefect—aside from setting an example, and helping other students, and not pushing them down stairs—" Professor Merrythought gave Cedrella a pointed stare— "to tutor your fellows in academic areas at which your prowess exceeds theirs. Therefore, I will be assigning you to work with one of your classmates in this subject. Two nights a week, Miss Black. I will allow you to examine your schedule and let Professor Dumbledore know which nights work best for you. He has already informed me that you may have use of his classroom to practice with your protégé."

In a moment of unparalleled eloquence, Cedrella sputtered madly. "Tutoring!—But—Wha—Professor Merrythought, I have a full schedule, and I spend plenty of time enough on Transfiguration, I don't need—"

"This isn't about what you need, Miss Black," Professor Merrythought said sternly. "No arguments. I have decided, and this is the way it shall be. Don't forget that you have that badge still pinned on your robes only because I have been lenient and generous. Too much so, some might say."

Cedrella shut her mouth and fumed.

"Please let Professor Dumbledore know which nights you will be available by this week-end. You may leave."

She turned to go, but stopped yet again at Professor Merrythought's voice—a sound which was beginning to grate on her nerves.

"Oh, and Miss Black?"

Cedrella turned slowly back to face her.

"Your actions today showed a severe lack of judgment." Professor Merrythought's eyes held disappointment, rather than anger or irritation—a rarity. "You were Sorted into this house because you displayed real intuition and wisdom. It would be nice to see those traits once more."

As a last effort, Cedrella eased the door shut, rather than slamming it closed; it took a remarkable amount of restraint. Muttering to herself, she began the descent of the spiral staircase in pursuit of her sister.

"So much potential. You could garner such respect, Cedrella, if only you grew up," Professor Merrythought said softly as she looked out the window of Ravenclaw Tower. Unfortunately, no-one was there to hear.

* 

Charis Black covered part of her face with one slender hand, letting a smile peek through. "All of that, Ella, and it slipped your mind to find out who you might be tutoring?"

"I was not thinking about who it might be!" Cedrella defended herself as her younger sister giggled at her. "I was more concerned with the fact that I would be losing my free evenings!"

"Oh, be quiet, you've got so much free time anyway." Charis wrinkled her nose and began to count on her fingers. "Let's see what classes you're actually still taking—Defence, Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, Divination, and Astronomy. Oh, six whole classes, Ella. You're so pressed for time; I can't imagine anyone daring to ask that you do something else—"

"Hush, Issy," Cedrella pouted. "The point is that they're infringing, and anyway, I can't imagine being in Professor Dumbledore's stuffy old classroom more than once a week."

"It will not be as bad as you're making it sound, Ella. Besides," Charis giggled again, "perhaps you'll be tutoring a handsome boy, and then you won't be complaining about spending two nights a week alone in a room with him for hours on end."

"Charis!" Cedrella swatted at her sister, who only laughed and dodged her hand. "Unlike you, my life is not dictated by which young man has the prettiest face. Girl or boy, attractive or troll, I do  _not want_  to tutor."

"Yes, yes." Charis waved her hand vaguely. "It looks as though you're going to have to, though. From what you've said, it sounds like Merrythought isn't too keen on letting you keep that Prefect badge if you don't behave exactly as she wants—and I don't know about you, but I can't live without that bathroom, it's divine. Anyway, enough of this, since you seem unwilling to see reason." Cedrella sniffed at this, but Charis continued. "Have you told Mother and Father yet?"

Cedrella eyed Charis as though the latter were crazy. "Of course I haven't told them, are you mad?"

"Do you remember in third year when you jinxed Harfang Longbottom because he asked Callidora to go to Hogsmeade with him and you didn't want to be alone?"

With a frown, Cedrella slowly answered, "Yes…"

"Well, didn't Merrythought say that each time she had to take "decisive action" against a student, she sent an owl home to their parents? Mother and Father were furious with you, I remember, they sent that Howler calling you unladylike…"

Cedrella's eyes widened. "Oh, bugger."

Glancing around, Charis snickered and said, "Maybe if you didn't curse so much, Mother and Father would consider you more of a lady."

"Merrythought's going to owl them!" Cedrella pulled at her hair with a groan, resting her elbows on the table. "Circe and Calypso, they're going to disown me."

"Cedrella, don't be silly." Charis laughed, but then sobered. "They are going to let you have it, though. Pushing someone down the stairwell? Not just someone, but Victor Crabbe's daughter? I'd be surprised if Professor Merrythought is the first person they hear it from, now that I think on it. Certainly it's already being discussed in all the social circles." She lifted her chin in the air and put on a mock falsetto. "That Black girl—positively dreadful behavior!"

Cedrella sneered, then bit her lip. "Oh, my life is over. I've got to tutor some hopeless soul for two nights out of seven, and Mother and Father are going cut off my head and stuff it like a house-elf."

"Maybe you should have thought of that before you pushed Irma Cr—"

"Shut your mouth, Issy, I don't want to hear it," Cedrella huffed. "I've already had enough of that from Professor Merrythought. Anyway, she deserved it, and I'll bet she's already out of the Hospital Wing, whereas I am going to suffer for the rest of the school year—and all because she couldn't walk past me without slamming into me. Ought to watch where she's going, the daft cow."

"Well," Charis said with a shifty look in her eyes, "It might have had something to do with the letter I sent her."

Cedrella looked at her younger sister sharply. "Letter? You had something to do with all of this?"

Charis held her hands up in front of her chest innocently. "All I did was slip an unsigned note under her pillow telling her that Pollux Black was not in the least bit interested in her, thank you very much, and that the family as a whole would appreciate if she would simply leave him alone." She looked at the ceiling, trying her very best not to smile. "I suppose she assumed it must have come from you, not Dorea or me. Too dependent on house solidarity, that girl is. It's going to bite her in the bum someday."

"You… Charis! Do you realize that all of this—my dire consequences, impending doom, a possible scandal—is because  _you_  couldn't leave bloody well enough alone, and decided to mess with Irma Crabbe? Pollux doesn't need you to protect him!"

Charis grinned. "Yes, but it's funny, Ella. Besides, I don't know about being pushed down the stairs, or about any of it being  _my_  fault, but she fully deserved that letter, and you know it."

Against her will, Cedrella matched Charis' grin, laughing slightly in spite of herself. "Well, yes, she did. Perhaps now she'll know not to follow our cousin around at social events like a lovesick puppy."

"I think she got the hint," Charis said with a smirk. "A little bitter, don't you think? You'll have to watch out for her in the corridors from now on."

Cedrella made a face. "I suppose it makes it a little better that it's to do with Pollux. That horrid girl is never going to come near our cousin. I'll make sure of it, especially after all of this."

Charis rolled her eyes. "Just don't do anything too drastic, Ella. Next time, Dippet will hire you as the History of Magic professor, and Mother and Father will probably marry you off to Casper Crouch or someone equally dreadful."

The melodramatic and semi-mocking shrieks of pain that followed from Cedrella were enough to get the pair forcibly removed from the library and sent back to their respective dormitories with the warning that next time, they would be banned. Charis only laughed and headed downstairs, quickly giving Cedrella a parting kiss on the cheek and telling her that she would see her at breakfast in the morning.

* 

A distinctly ruffled owl was waiting on the ledge outside the window when Cedrella made it back to her dormitory, and she hurried to let it in, noting with a glance around the room that all of her housemates were still out and about in the castle. Hooting at her impatiently once it had been let inside, the owl held out its leg, to which two tightly-rolled scrolls were attached with a black ribbon.

Cedrella blanched—the letters were doubtlessly from her family, and while one was probably just Callidora, it was the one bearing her father's seal that made her stomach turn over and do somersaults. With her fingers trembling, she removed the letters from the owl's leg, patting him on the head. When he hooted again, she agitatedly snatched a treat from a drawer and shoved it at him, closing the window firmly behind him when he took off into the night for the owlery.

Her heart was in her throat as she unrolled the letter from her parents, but she slumped against the wall with relief after scanning the first few lines. It was an obligatory note, with no real content or meaning; Charis probably would have received one as well. ' _Your father is rising in the eyes of the Ministry,_ ' her mother wrote, ' _promoting the new ideas that will bring strength and freedom to the Wizarding world_ '—Cedrella tossed the letter aside with a groan. If it was something new, perhaps an interesting development in the Ministry, she might have devoured it eagerly, but she'd been hearing for years of her family's social and political actions, and it was always the same. She had enough of it at home, and certainly wasn't interested in hearing more.

Glancing at the pile of books and parchment at her desk, Cedrella decided that she was done thinking for the night. Learning, she cared about, but hours of work? She wasn't a Hufflepuff, and the current exhaustion she felt won out over any feeling of responsibility. Cedrella crawled into bed and pulled the covers to her chin, falling asleep almost as soon as her eyes closed. The unopened letter that lay atop her things would wait until the morning.

*   
 _  
Dearest Cedrella,_

_How is school this term? I can't imagine it's much of anything since I've left—only joking, darling, though I miss you greatly and I'm sure the sentiment is mutual. All of last year to become accustomed to it, and it still feels so strange, being at home with Mother and Father again rather than walking through the halls and corridors of the castle._

__

I thought you and Charis might be interested to know that Father has been speaking with Thomas Longbottom and it has officially been arranged for Harfang and I to be married next summer. Mother is quite pleased, and has already begun looking into fine robes and flowers and … possibly charmed ice sculptures and the like, you know exactly how she can be at times. As for me… I couldn't be happier. Since I was twelve, I was afraid of a horrid arranged marriage, you remember what happened to cousin Arcturus, but instead they've chosen with my interests in mind. Of course, the pair of you will be my bridesmaids. Try to owl Mother before she picks the colours, I can't be held responsible if your skin looks translucent against blue in the sunlight.

__

So, has Charis latched on to a new 'love' yet? Last I heard, she was head over heels for Eunice Murray, but I can't imagine she'd be content to pine over a Gryffindor for very long, nor stupid enough to set her sights on one. As predictable as she can be, I admit it amuses me to hear about our younger sister's escapades, so do keep me posted.

__

Do keep me informed on your life, as well. You've always been the most likely to speak what's in your head, and while I love that about you, I have the feeling the world might not. These are times when it's smartest to please as many people as possible, whether you disagree or not, and I know just how smart you are. Do tell me how you fare this year, Cedrella? And perhaps you can make it a goal to stay out of trouble. After all, you don't want any lowly Gryffindors beating you out for Head Girl.

__

Mother and Father send their love, but it can never match mine. Tell Charis and Dorea I said hello, and watch out for them. You never know what those two will get up to.

__

Your sister,

 

_Callidora_  
  
* 

Seven o'clock on Friday arrived much earlier than Cedrella would have liked, and she found herself dragging her feet to the dark and empty classroom on the fourth floor. She'd lugged out the textbooks from the past three years of Transfiguration and some of their supplementary reading from the library, wondering darkly just how far behind her yet-unrevealed classmate would be. Needing nothing else—Transfiguration tutoring was rarely theoretical, for students struggled far more with the practical aspect—she set off with her arms full of heavy books. This proved to be a problem long before she had reached her destination.

Gasping from the strain on her arms and staggering towards the door, Cedrella jumped when a voice behind her offered, "Do you need help carrying those, Miss Black?"

Cedrella turned quickly, and her eyes flicked up and down when she saw who was standing there, taking in his red hair and yellow-and-black striped tie. She immediately recognized him from the social events her mother and father brought her to, and vaguely remembered seeing his face in shared classes, but she experienced a moment's hesitation.

Aside from family members, a Black had to be careful of who they associated with, and even more so when they were not housemates (and therefore, had no ready excuse). There were levels: after family came the highest-ranking members of society, and after them were slightly less prominent purebloods, as well as influential people of more questionable background. In her friends and acquaintances, Cedrella liked to be selective; here and now, with ten pounds of books being barely supported by her slender arms, she would accept any of the above.

"Yes, thank you," she said gratefully, letting Septimus Weasley take the three heaviest books from the top of the pile. Shifting the remainder around in her arms to make them easier to carry, she kept walking towards the Transfiguration classrooms, and he fell into step beside her.

"Where are you going with all of these books on a Friday night?" Septimus asked. "Shouldn't you be enjoying your reprieve from work instead?"

Cedrella let out an exaggerated sigh. "I should," she said morosely, "but my Head of House deemed it necessary that I tutor some poor imbecile who doesn't know what he's doing in Transfiguration. Honestly—can you imagine? It's one of the simplest subjects this school has to offer! It just comes so naturally."

"Is that so?" Septimus asked, his mouth twitching.

"Yes," Cedrella replied, "and so I've lost two precious nights a week for the rest of the year, stuck in a classroom trying to cram my knowledge down someone else's throat. I cannot imagine  _why_  this had to happen to  _me_."

"Ah," Septimus said, turning his face slightly away from her as his shoulders quaked. "I'm dreadfully sorry, Miss Black."

"I appreciate that, Weasley," Cedrella said primly, and then they had reached the classroom. Septimus opened the door for Cedrella and followed her into the room, setting the books he held on top of those she had deposited on an empty desk. Cedrella slipped into the desk, smiling tightly up at Septimus and wondering how much association with him was proper—after all, his family was a noble pureblood line, even if their liberal ideas left a bit to be desired. She knew these were the sort of things that no one could tell her, and she desperately needed to know.

"Thank you for your assistance, Weasley, it was most helpful."

Septimus grinned. "You're welcome, Miss Black." Sitting in the desk next to her, he turned sideways to face her and winked. "You might need my help carrying those books for a while, at any rate. I really have no idea what I'm doing in Transfiguration."

Cedrella's eyes widened. "You… I'm tutoring you?"

Septimus looked around the room exaggeratedly, checking over his shoulders and glancing at the ceiling. When he found no one else, he shrugged. "It would appear so."

Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she pressed her lips into a thin line. "Right. Well."

"I promise not to be too much of… what did you say? Ah, yes, an imbecile."

"I—" Cedrella stopped, having no idea what to say in explanation, and narrowed her eyes when she saw that Septimus was grinning.

"Miss Black." He raised his hands in front of his chest. "As much as I would love to discuss— _whatever_  it is on your mind which you'd like to discuss—I could really use the help in Transfiguration, so if we could…"

Septimus reached across the aisle to grab one of the books, but Cedrella firmly planted her hand on the stack.

"You need help?" she asked incredulously. "That's not—why? How could you not get it? Dumbledore… as strange as the man is, he's a gifted teacher. How could you not learn with him at the front of the classroom?"

With a lifted eyebrow, Septimus replied, "Not everyone is adept at everything, Miss Black. Transfiguration just didn't come to me easily."

"But that doesn't make any sense!" Cedrella persisted.

Septimus rubbed his forehead. "You've never been less than perfect at  _anything_  you attemped?"

Cedrella frowned. "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."

"And they say you're a clever one… any of your subjects?" Septimus' eyebrow was cocked again. "Not a single one has ever given you any trouble at all?"

"Of course not!" Cedrella wrinkled her nose. "I'm top of the class in Transfiguration and Divination, and I would be in all of my subjects if not for Charlus Potter and  _you_."

"Right." Septimus kept an easy smile on his face. "Well, not everyone immediately knows how to do everything, and so I need help with Transfiguration—that is why I am here, though I guess I'll never know why  _you're_  here. Professor Dumbledore wasn't forthcoming with his methods of convincing you to help me, though I suspect it has something to do with the rumours about Irma Crabbe's unfortunate accident on Monday." His eyes twinkled.

Cedrella sucked in her breath sharply, ready to protest, but Septimus cut her off.

"At any rate," he continued, "the rest of it doesn't matter. I realize this may be a foreign concept to you, but I truly, sincerely need your help. Are you prepared to give it to me?"

Biting her lip, Cedrella nodded.

"Excellent." Septimus gave her a broad, winning smile and reached across once more to take the top book from the stack. "So, can you help me with turning beetles to buttons?"

At her look of absolute horror, he laughed out loud.

* 

During the week, breakfasts at Hogwarts were busy affairs; every student had grudgingly dragged themselves out of bed and shuffled en masse to the Great Hall to obtain some much-needed energy before braving the horrors of the school day. The house tables were all full, and most of the Professors graced the Head table with their presence as well.

Saturday mornings were a different story—after a long week, most wanted nothing more than to sleep until noon (or later). The few students who made their way to the Great Hall at the obscene hour of 7.30 in the morning usually found themselves in a nearly empty room, the occasional owl drifting through and no adult supervision to speak of save the eerily cheerful countenance of their Transfiguration professor, who threw his long auburn beard over his shoulder to enjoy his oatmeal and pumpkin juice. With such a deserted atmosphere, a Ravenclaw student had no qualms about finding her way to the Slytherin table to join her sister and cousin and share gossip about the previous night.

"I told you it would be someone attractive, Ella!" Charis squealed with an impressed note. "He pulls off the red hair, not like those Prewett girls in third year."

"Septimus Weasley?" Dorea looked across the table, her hazel eyes inscrutable. "Is he the one with all the older brothers? Mother used to laugh about his parents with Father—not in a negative way, they like the Weasleys for the most part, but they named all their children for the order they were born in? It seems a little odd to me, though I like their family, too."

"I bet he'll ask you to stay late sometime," Charis sighed, "and then you can take him to the Prefect's bath—"

"Charis!" Cedrella exclaimed.

"Primus is the eldest, I believe, he's thirty, and then Alexander and Gertrude just  _kept having babies…_ there's a good fourteen years between their oldest and youngest son, I'd say that's impressive…" Dorea screwed up her eyes. "Didn't Quartus marry Pollyanna McMillan?"

"All of your complaining earlier this week, Ella, and now look at your luck! I wish I was tutoring a handsome boy."

"Stop!" Cedrella fought a smile as she waved her hands in the air wildly, drawing giggles from Charis and a mocking grin from Dorea. "Very well, Issy, you think he's attractive, and yes, Dorea, he has a large family, but those things are hardly the point."

"Then just what is the point, Cedrella?" Dorea asked with a sly smile as she rested her chin in the palm of her hand, small elbow leaning on the bare table. A thick lock of black hair fell into her eyes.

"The point is that… maybe tutoring isn't quite so horrid as I thought it would be," Cedrella admitted. "Septimus is a nice enough boy, and it's… actually sort of fun, teaching him. Teaching at all, actually. Before I help him, he can't do anything, and then with my guidance he's turning beetles into buttons and back… it's a slow start, and he's even further behind than I thought, but it really isn't so bad."

"I still think you're pleased about it because he's handsome," Charis murmured.

Cedrella groaned. "That has nothing to do with it!"

"Why are you so worked up about this, Cedrella?" Dorea asked. "Charis is right, he's quite handsome, and it's not as though Aunt Lysandra and Uncle Arcturus would mind if you spent your time in his company."

"They will mind when they find out  _why_  she's going to spend time with him," Charis pointed out, but Dorea dismissed her with a wave of her hand.

Cedrella chewed her bottom lip. "I'm not worked up about it," she said. "I just don't want the pair of you to think something that's not true. This has nothing to do with how attractive Septimus is, or how charming, or whether I would even consider  _thinking_  about taking a fancy to him."

Dorea and Charis exchanged looks.

"I'm serious!" Cedrella cried.

"The more you protest, Ella," Charis smirked, "the more obvious it becomes."

Cedrella stood up. "You are both utterly ridiculous. I have resigned myself to the fact that I will be tutoring Septimus Weasley for the duration of the year, and therefore I have decided that I will resent it as little as possible. It seems, as of last night, that he will help to make this easier; he's much funnier and less irritating than I thought—well, whoever I ended up tutoring would be. That is all."

"Right," Dorea drawled. "You keep telling yourself that, Cedrella. Perhaps eventually, even I will believe you."

Cedrella scowled and lifted her chin. "Excuse me, I have to write a letter," she announced to the air before stomping out the door.

*   
 _  
Dora,_

_Sometime between now and the day you left Hogwarts, you became unbearably formal. Charis? Cedrella? We're Issy and Ella, and have been since the days we each were born, to hear Mother tell it. Hopefully you haven't forgotten just because you're of age and entering the real world and all of that tosh._

__

School's quite fine. There was a minor problem earlier this week, I'm alright, only Merrythought wasn't pleased so now I've got to tutor a boy some nights. He's alright; nothing to remark on, really, but I won't be tearing my hair out from spending my evenings with him. I haven't heard from Mother and Father yet but it probably won't be good, have they said anything to you?

__

Issy hasn't said much about any boys in particular this term, though she does a lot of that disguised giggling whenever a particularly handsome one walks by, it's a bit annoying to be honest. Apparently since she hasn't got her eye on anybody, she's doing the next most exciting thing (in her opinion anyway) and urging me to pursue whoever she decides is a good match for me at the same time as being attractive. It's a flawed method in my opinion as I'm not interested in her pretty boys but I'll just indulge her for the most part, I suppose.

__

The wedding sounds very exciting, though I can't really forget how Longbottom was making eyes at Cassiopeia the first time you pointed him out to me, so make sure you seat them far apart at the reception. Mother will probably make everything very lavish and elaborate, and of course she won't let us wear green, which is the only colour I look really good in, but see if you can get her to do gold robes for the bridesmaids because Charis and I both look halfway decent in that, it goes with blonde and brown hair which is excellent. Also, knowing you, you'll probably try to get Mother to let you wear your hair loose, but for Circe's sake just let her put you in one of those fancy up-dos, June is hot. Do I need to emphasize my point further? HOT. HOT!

__

In conclusion, everything is fine, lessons are going well and time is passing as usual. Nothing else really to report, though you may want to write to Charis and ask her about a letter she left for a certain not-so-secret admirer of Pollux's.

__

P.S. – Maybe you hadn't noticed, but I always stay out of trouble. Personally, I think trouble is afraid of me, as well it should be.

__

Forever your loving sister,

 

_Ella_


End file.
